


and love will not break your heart

by ultraviolence



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Happy, Everyone Lives except for Palpatine, Everyone deserves better, F/M, Family Feels, Friendship, Obi-Wan is an honorary Skywalker, TCW spoilers, mentions of TCW canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love doesn't always destroy. Sometimes, it redeems. // an AU of what could have been: if Anakin had stayed on the Light side, if he remembered his friendship with Obi-Wan and his Master's teachings in the midst of Palpatine's temptations. If he chose a future with sunlight, no matter how brief, rather than a mechanical suit. Read as: Uncle Obi-Wan comes over for dinner, as he always does. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and love will not break your heart

**Author's Note:**

> There was a blasted post on Tumblr about how, in a happier Universe, Uncle Obi-Wan comes over for dinner, grandma Shmi is alive, and the twins never did lose their parents. This is that story. Originally for my darling padlme @ tumblr. Set a couple of years after the Clone Wars, in a Universe where Shmi never dies, Anakin never turned over to the Dark Side, and Palpy was captured. Order 66 was never executed. Title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqUsAHTUPTU). Listen for maximum effect. Without further ado: enjoy!

It wasn’t such a long trip from Coruscant to Tattooine, despite the actual distance between them. Going from the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim takes time, even with hyperspace travel (which, he admitted, they took for granted), but Obi-Wan had time. Not to mention that there is a certain serene grace about space – the silence, the stars, the blackness. He – or all of them, really - hadn’t had time to appreciate it before, not fully, not truly, but now that peace has been established and they had the freedom to travel without fear of being shot at by Separatist forces (well, except for pirates, but that’s another can of worms) again, he can relax and let himself enjoy the view. Flying isn’t so bad, when you’re not being shot at.

Maybe he could get used to it.

The war, well, the war was _always_ going badly, but it has ended, and Palpatine’s scheming – or should he be referred to as _Darth Sidious,_ since that’s who he truly is – had finally been put to a stop before it could devour any more innocent lives. Master Windu, with the help of Anakin (his former padawan, he still remembered the boy he once were, golden-haired and bright-eyed) had managed to subdue him, and they even succeeded in arresting him, despite Windu’s protestations (and glares that could rival his purple lightsaber), but sadly, the next night, his charred remains was found in the cell and none was the wiser. There are whispers that it was murder, and obviously conspiracy theories was abound (the conspiracy theorists were having a field day, he thought, especially those who are critical of the Republic), not to mention that the Senate was wild with speculation and conjectures, but nobody can be certain about it.

Even if, officially, the Jedi Council was investigating Sidious’ still mysterious death, truthfully, they all breathed a sigh of relief and slept a little more soundly at night, after his death. Sidious was absolutely not to be trifled with, especially for one who managed to hide in plain view for so long, and, even Obi-Wan had to admit, maybe Master Windu was right. Maybe he shouldn’t be allowed to live, and a trial was out of the question for him because of that. That was a preposterous and, frankly, disturbing thought (maybe the first, hopefully the last), and it’s not that he doesn’t disagree with his former padawan _outright_ , but it’s something they still discussed and, occasionally, debated. His former padawan’s now former padawan, of course, fiercely agreed with Anakin.

Obi-Wan can barely suppress the smile at the thought of Ahsoka. She had recently been promoted to a Knight, having earning her spurs, and now she was rarely seen – the Council often sent her to tie up loose ends from the war, since she was apparently good at finding impossible solutions, wonder who she learnt that from – but when she’s around, she pestered him as much as she pestered her former Master (and, really, she pestered the other Masters too, even Master Windu had a soft spot for her, the other week Obi-Wan saw him in the training room, sparring with her and teaching her new things; tough love _is_ definitely Master Windu’s thing).

The Republic is carrying on, tottering, on the brink of destruction, but it will survive. The Senate had voted all the power out of the Chancellor, and elected a new Chancellor soon as they can, with advice from the Jedi Council. The new Chancellor is less charming than Chancellor Palpatine, a woman of few words with a soldier’s bearing, from an Outer Rim system, but she was capable nevertheless.

Ventress is still out there, somewhere, but at least for the moment, she or the Sith did not pose any major threat. Not yet.

After the war, Anakin’s secret marriage to (former) Senator Amidala was discovered (he had a nagging feeling for the longest time and maybe part of him knew – the man was his brother, after all, if not in blood then in bond – like the time when Sidious was trying to lure Anakin to the dark side, except that that feeling was a much darker, murkier feeling), and it was the press’ turn to a field day, especially when her pregnancy was discovered.

When they found out that she’s going to have twins, all hell breaks lose.

The Council was rightly angered, and even the Senate takes a few blow from the media, but most, or at least some of them, stood with Padmé. She eventually chose to resign early, even if her colleagues assured her that she didn’t have to, including the new Chancellor, but she insists that she needs time for the time being – for herself, for her husband, for her children, and to rebuild her life – and no one could talk her out of it (like her husband, no one could talk Padmé Amidala out of anything once she made her mind). She remained a public servant, because it’s her life and she can’t stay out of it, but this time as an advisor to the Senate, not a senator.

She gave birth in Naboo, her home system, where she grew up in, and that’s technically where the Skywalkers’ residence are, and Obi-Wan often paid them a visit, but Anakin told him that they’re going to be in Tattooine for a bit – maybe a week or so – because of his mother. That’s where he was heading right now.

The landing was a bit rougher than he expected – then again, all landings are always a bit rougher than expected, according to Obi-Wan – but he landed alright, and soon made his way towards the Skywalker matriarch’s residence. His former padawan had managed to rescue her from a Tusken village, beaten and broken, but her new husband – who also freed her – nursed her back to health, with the help of his children, and soon she was up and about again. Some of her injuries would leave mark forever, but that doesn’t stop her. It helps that Anakin pays her a visit every now and then, after the war. Most of his visits were unauthorised by the Council, but Obi-Wan knew, and chose to turn a blind eye.

When he disembarked from his vehicle, weary but relieved, C3PO greets him. The protocol droid had definitely seen better days, but the same could be said for Obi-Wan himself. He smiled and let the droid pester him with polite conversation while they’re making their way in. He was immediately greeted with the overwhelming feeling of _warmth_ , and a shrilly, boyish scream.

“Grandma, Leia did it again! She broke the mini-regulator I built for dad!”

A little boy with curly blond hair ran past him to the front garden (although it can hardly be called that, it’s full of sand, but Shmi, her husband, and Padmé insists that it _is_ a garden, for some indecipherable reason – Anakin agrees with him, though), to where an elderly lady was sitting, her skin tanned from the exposure to Tattooine’s legendary desert heat and cracked from labour. No one knows how old Shmi Skywalker really is, but despite her injuries and age, she can be as fierce as her son when she needs to be. It’s a Skywalker family trait, he guessed.

The little boy’s – Luke – grandmother smiled reassuringly and ruffled his hair. “You can always build another, Luke.”

“But that was my best one! She ruined my best one!”

“Now, now. Don’t be so harsh on your sister. Maybe she wanted to help you.”

Obi-Wan probably should have announced his presence right there and then, but he hates to interrupt. He was about to give a polite cough, but Shmi already spotted him, another smile forming on the corner of her lips.

“Luke, why don’t you say hi to Uncle Obi-Wan and accompany him inside? Your father is probably waiting for him.”

The little boy – almost a splitting image of Anakin, but there were traces of Padmé here and there, like a trail, a secret path through the woods – reluctantly gave himself up for a kiss from his grandmother, and then made his way to Obi-Wan. He gave the matriarch a smile, and was about to say something, but Luke was already staring at him, wide-eyed and full of wonder. He always did that whenever he or Ahsoka were around, but especially more towards him, maybe because of Anakin’s stories about their grand exploits together. Obi-Wan gave an apologetic smile in Shmi’s direction, and gave himself up for Luke’s questioning. C3PO has disappeared at some point, probably to attend to his mistress.

“Is it true that you once liberate an entire planet together? With Ahsoka too? Dad just told me about it.”

Obi-Wan barely suppressed a smile, as Anakin’s little son boldly took his hand and led him inside, babbling all the while.

The general feeling of warmth intensifies as the little boy guides him inside, to a place he knew well (although not as well as the Skywalkers’ residence in Naboo, a lovely mansion in the suburbs that was bequeathed to them by Padmé’s father, who had a hard time resisting the chance to spoil his favourite daughter one last time, much to his sisters’ chagrin, who was looking forward to claim it as their inheritance once he passed away), almost as hot as the twin suns that graced Tattooine’s sky, although rather than scorching, this feeling gave him a certain kind of _peace_. He was greeted by the sight of Padmé Amidala, once Senator and before that Queen of the system of Naboo, resplendent even in a casual white gown with crimson accents. She was, at the moment, delicately arranging flowers at the northeastern corner of the room (Obi-Wan noticed that the anterior room they’re in were almost uncannily tidy, an enigma in a Skywalker home). Padmé may be the tidy one, but Anakin naturally left a mess wherever he goes (both literally _and_ metaphorically, much to Obi-Wan’s chagrin), and his offspring seemed to have inherited this blasted trait from him, although Leia is somewhat tidier than Luke, by a tiny margin. Her mother might have something to do with that.

Padmé was completely absorbed in her task, and Obi-Wan admires the beauty and symmetry of it all for a moment – the (most likely) recently made room, the flowers, her presence. Even Luke stopped babbling for a moment (once he talks, he never stops, something the Jedi Master still haven’t figured out where he got it from, or from _whom_ , but it reminds him of a boy he knew once not so long ago, a boy who won’t stop asking him questions, who wants so badly to be a Jedi and see the galaxy), as if the grace of the moment, the serenity of it, stunned him, too.

“Mother!” Luke let go of his hand and, inevitably, as all little boys do, ran towards his mother.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.” The ex-senator puts down the flowers (white and red with a splash of yellow, Naboonian flowers, and a desert flower that’s probably native to this desert system), worry creasing her face. “Uncle Obi-Wan is coming for dinner and I need your help, Luke.”

“That won’t be necessary!” Luke exclaimed happily, tugging at his mother’s gown. “Look who’s here already!”

He gestured at the Jedi Master, tugging his mother’s gown once more, and ran back to Obi-Wan.

“Uncle Obi-Wan said that he’s excited for dinner, and he’d really helped dad liberated an entire planet full of Twi’leks once!”

The boy was almost like a small plane, whooshing between them, sky blue eyes shining with mischief and wonder. Padmé finally managed to get ahold of him, and plants a firm kiss on his forehead. Luke squirms and tried to get away, but his mother’s grip was iron. She glanced in Obi-Wan’s direction, conspiratorially, and whispered to her son:

“More like your father helped _him_ liberate an entire planet, Luke.”

“But that’s not true!” The youngling immediately protested, to both his and Padmé’s laughter. “Dad says that _he_ was the one who freed the people and retook the capital! He’s the Hero With No Fear!”

“Shush, darling, you know your father likes to exaggerate things. Why don’t you tell him that Uncle Obi-Wan is here? Tell your sister, too.”

Luke frowns, obviously displeased, not only with his mother’s opinion about his father’s story, but also with the fact that he had to speak to his sister. He started to protest and repeat his story about how Leia had destroyed something he’d made for his father, but Padmé sent him away with another kiss and at the same time managed to extract the promise that he would reconcile with his sister. Then the little boy scurries away and, shortly after, there was a sound of a minor explosion from somewhere else in the vicinity of the estate, followed by something that suspiciously sounds like the sound of Artoo’s scream. Padmé’s expression turned into that of a mixture of concern and curiosity, but it quickly disappeared. The look they briefly shared for a moment voiced Obi-Wan’s thought: _Just another day in the Skywalker residence_.

“That was probably Ani.” Padmé started, picking up the flowers where she left them. “He was building something. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“Ah, the children worshipped him, don’t they?”

Padmé shot him a look, and she looked her age for a moment despite her still-elegant bearing, tired and weary but with pride shot through it, like veins of gold. She was sunlight, and at that moment, Obi-Wan could see why Anakin – despite _despites_ – fell in love with her so irrevocably, so deeply. One has to be blind not to.

“You don’t even know half of it.” She said, and Obi-Wan felt that he was privy to a secret, a side of her and Anakin that he’d never seen before, despite all his years of knowing them.

“Let me help you with that,” He said in return, and she smiled at him, as radiant as the twin suns. They both made quick work of the flowers.

* * *

The twin suns soon disappeared over the horizon, and nightfall arrived over the desert planet of Tattooine. Shmi’s husband and his children were out, staying over at a relative’s place, according to Padmé, since this morning, so the place was theirs. Shmi herself decided to stay, because her left leg – she had been limping for quite a while now, partly due to the Tusken incident – had been acting up again, and she’d opted to stay at home. But Obi-Wan knows the truth: she rather enjoyed it when all of them gathered together like this, and while her only (blood-related) son and his family was here, she wanted to make the most out of it. He was quite fond of the old lady himself, and she held him in high regard, since, according to her, he’d taken good care of Anakin and raised him well in her stead (despite Obi-Wan’s protestations).

The entire place was bustling with activity since the afternoon. The helper droids was deployed to set up the table, food was arranged, and even if Padmé insists otherwise, Obi-Wan helped with the preparations. He haven’t seen his former padawan, not a single hair of him, although he met his daughter shortly before dinner, who was thrilled to see her favourite uncle and plied him with questions about diplomacy. She would grew up to be a Senator like her mother, that one, or an Ambassador who’d lead her own contingent of delegates to negotiate peace. Obi-Wan felt quite proud of her already, even if she loves blasters a little more than necessary (uncivilised weapons) and still a little too trigger happy to be perfectly diplomatic (wonder who she inherited _that_ from). He tried to explain to her how lightsabers are better than blasters by a long shot (“But not all of us can be a Jedi, Uncle!”) and how she needs to tune down her trigger happy attitude, but she just looked him dead in the eye and told him that sometimes, negotiations turned aggressive, and she needs to be well prepared for that. The point was moot after that.

After a lot of commotion, Padmé’s valiant and well-meaning motherly effort to catch Luke and get him dressed properly (Leia, on the contrary, was the picture of well-preparedness, a prim young girl already seated on the table, almost a splitting image of her mother, but with her father’s bold smile and wild eyes), Artoo’s sudden appearance where he ran from the direction of the garage, half on fire and screaming, C3PO’s noisy concern over his fellow droid (and appropriate insults), another explosion, and the curious lack of Anakin, dinner was served. Obi-Wan took his seat opposite Padmé. They both glanced at Anakin’s still empty seat, but he knew that the other Jedi was due to appear any moment now. He can sense it.

They wait for him, and soon enough, heavy footsteps came from the direction of the garage, half-running, _definitely_ in a hurry, and Anakin Skywalker, his former padawan, currently Jedi Knight (not yet Master because of the discovery of his secret marriage), husband to Padmé Amidala, father to twins Luke and Leia Skywalker, Obi-Wan’s oldest friend and brother by bond, headache inducer on two legs, bursts in to the dining room still covered in oil and soot. His hair was a mess and there was a decidedly wild look in his eyes (there was _always_ a wild look in his eyes, Obi-Wan would argue).

“Sorry I’m late. I was trying to build a new engine for the speeder, but it overheats, Artoo tried to help, but it exploded, and he was on fire, and then I tried to set it right, but it exploded again, and-“

“Ani.” Padmé cuts him, sharply, her glare just as sharp. Anakin stops prattling, briefly exchanging glances with his former Master. “You’re covered in oil and soot.”

“I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish, Anakin, but Padmé is right.” Obi-Wan concurred. The children then briefly fought a civil war, where Luke loudly exclaimed that his father needs to clean up for dinner, but Leia said that it wasn’t his fault, and that it was just Luke who needs to be cleaned up, because he’s always dirty and full of sand. Padmé silenced them, and soon enough, they’ve already forgotten about it, lost in a talk about heroics and beasts and evil men and women. Obi-Wan smiled to himself wanly.

“Anakin,” Padmé says, trying to dodge an incoming kiss from her husband. “The kids are right. You need to get cleaned up and make yourself presentable. We’ll wait for you." 

“You guys start without me,” He told them, successfully planting a kiss in Padmé’s lips, to his children’s loud amusement (specifically, “ewww” from Luke and wild giggling from Leia), smiling triumphantly afterwards. “I’ll be back soon.”

Then he was out of the door and normal activity resumed once more. The younglings were back to arguing and the helper droids went back and forth from the kitchen. Obi-Wan turned his attention back to his food. Interstellar flight always left him starving.

“You’re rather quiet tonight, Obi-Wan.” Padmé stated, after her husband was gone. “Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing,” He responded in turn, giving her his usual, enigmatic smile. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how things could have turned out… _differently_.”

* * *

How _close_ things almost come to turning out differently, is what Obi-Wan meant. Anakin never did told him the full story from his part, even after the war was slowly receding into the horizon, like a great, wounded beast, and Obi-Wan had always been too delicate to ask, not to mention that life has swept them both into its embrace like a tidal wave once it’s over – there had been reports to fill at first, troops to recall or redeployed, treaties to be signed, rebuilding efforts and ceasefires to supervise, then Anakin’s marriage scandal and the fallout to handle, while at the same time, Obi-Wan was busy with his duties to the Jedi Council. Before they know it, Anakin’s twins had been born, and there was one more thing that sits between them and the dust of the war that was slowly settling all around them, although its ghosts had hardly been put to rest. The twins’ birth had been a whirlwind, which Obi-Wan got swept into, as well, and shortly after Ahsoka took her tests, and became a Knight in full. His former padawan lost his own padawan (he _still_ treated her like one, although he’s getting better – he does have some issues with letting go), and there was another gulf between them.

For better or for worse, the bond they shared – the bond _all_ Jedi Masters shared with their padawan learners – was still there. It was how Obi-Wan came to know how close Sidious had come not just to winning the war, but also how close the Sith Lord had come to winning his friend over, as well. He could sense it all: Anakin’s turmoil, the temptation, his fears. His restraint was wavering, his love of Padmé was slowly turning into poison, but – if there was such a thing – his faith in _him_ was the hand that pulled him out. Obi-Wan might have accidentally mentioned it, in vague terms, during one of his conversations with the spirit of his old Master, and his old Master laughed at him. “Obi-Wan,” the Force ghost of the Jedi once known as Qui-Gon Jinn had said, “I know you can do it. I know you can save the boy.”

Over dinner, Padmé laughed at what he said, as if the ghosts of the war were something to be laughed about, and he laughed along with her.

The twins were having one more argument – this time involving C3PO – and Shmi was trying her best to separate them, although she seemed to take a certain amusement in it and said some things that…does not help to defuse the situation, in Obi-Wan’s opinion. The Skywalkers seemed to thrive on conflict, much to his constant puzzlement (and exasperation). Even Padmé had contracted this troublemaking trait, to some degree. That’s what you get when you hang around Anakin a bit too much, he guessed.

They – he and Padmé - were making conversation, first polite and then friendly, reminiscing old times and so forth, and laughing at silly jokes, when the door opened once more and Anakin Skywalker, now freshly clean and properly dressed, entered the dining room for the second time that night. He smiled sheepishly and took a seat beside his wife.

“Sorry for the delay,” He proclaimed, glancing at everyone, who was staring at him expectantly. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not much,” Obi-Wan responded, smiling slightly. “Just the dinner.”

* * *

Later, he was alone, in the garden, watching the small, singular moon making its way across the sky of Tattooine. The stars were small but numerous, and in the night sky they looked like tiny jewels, or hope, if it were given a physical form, although Obi-Wan decidedly avoided such poetic lines of thinking. Stars were stars, nothing but balls of gas and light, and in the end, they, too, shall pass, like everything else.

After dark, the air was cooler, and a light breeze caressed his hair. The desert stretches on towards what seems to be infinity.

“I had to put the kids to bed first,” a familiar voice interrupted his reverie, without prologue or proper greeting. “Luke asked for confirmation about the planet story and Leia asked about humanitarian law. I think Padmé might have been telling her a bit too much about how the Republic works.”

Obi-Wan turned around and found his former padawan there, stepping out into the garden from the house, joining him. He gave the other a brief smile before turning his attention back to the sky and the vast desert before him, kept out only by a waist-high fence.

“Not to worry, Anakin.” He assured the younger Jedi. “Your children need you.”

There was a brief silence, as Anakin went to stand beside him, and the intimate, infinite silence of the night exerted its influence. An empty chair stood empty some distance away from him, and Obi-Wan was sitting on its near identical twin (Shmi and her husband sat here sometimes after dark, Anakin had mentioned at some point, this was their place), but his former apprentice chose to stand. A couple of years back, and Obi-Wan would probably choose to stand, as well. He was getting old, he thought to himself. There is no escaping age.

“Do you think…” The other started, hesitatingly, scared of something. No, scared of a _possibility_ , Obi-Wan corrects himself. “Do you think that the Council would take Luke away from me eventually? From…from _us_?”

By us, he meant him and Padmé, and Obi-Wan could sense his growing anxiety. It was a worrying prospect, he had to admit to himself. Being so innately strong in the Force, Anakin’s children had naturally inherited his Force-sensitive disposition, at least one of them did, and – especially after the war, with the Temple’s own rebuilding and reforming efforts – they should be given to the Jedi Temple, where they would be trained in the ways of the Jedi, as it always been, for thousands of years. But considering Anakin’s position and role in the Clone Wars, and Padmé’s objections (and her own position and role in the war), this was a special case.

“Not to worry, Anakin,” He chose to respond to his friend’s concern in a lighthearted manner, trying to lighten him up. “I don’t think the Council wants to face Padmé’s wrath. In fact, I think neither of us wants to.”

“I suppose you’re right,” the other Jedi said, relaxing slightly. “But what about Leia?”

“Well, she told me that she wanted to be an ambassador. Or a Senator.”

Anakin smiled, shifting his weight. He radiates pride, Obi-Wan thought. He was proud of his daughter.

“That’s good to hear. Padmé will be proud.”

There was silence again, a comfortable one, and a stronger gust of wind ruffled the sand around them. Behind them, the house was slowly falling asleep, lights turning off one by one, although one of them remained stubbornly lit. _The master bedroom_ , he noticed, _Padmé_.

“You never did tell me your side of the story. Of the war, I mean.”

Silence begets more silence, and Obi-Wan’s remark was left hanging in the cool night air like a wounded bantha, left behind by her herd.

“What _is_ there to tell, Obi-Wan?”

He glanced at Anakin – his former padawan, his friend, his brother, his family, the only one he had and the only one he allowed himself to have – and sensed a mixture of things: anxiety, turmoil, discomfort. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, but – and Obi-Wan can’t deny it – he wanted to know. More than anything, he wanted to know. And maybe he could let the ghost of the war rest, for good, along with Palpatine’s ashes.

“A lot of things.” He simply, finally stated. He doesn’t need to see with his eyes that Anakin tensed at his words. He could feel it.

“Oh, you know,” The taller Jedi remarked, casually. “A powerful Sith Lord tried to tempt me over to the Dark Side by promising me a cure to death for my secret wife. The usual. Holo-drama stuff.”

“That would make an interesting holo-drama, I’d admit.” Obi-Wan commented, resting a hand on his chin. “But there’s more to it than that, is there?”

Once more, he was met with silence. Anakin shifts uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. 

“I’ve told you. I remembered you. I remembered what you said to me about the Council, Master. I remembered your…your teachings. I chose to trust in your wisdom, in the Council’s wisdom, for once.”

“That’s a pretty interesting time to choose to submit to the greater good. You could have chosen to listen to us sooner.”

Anakin glared at him in return, and Obi-Wan readied himself for a biting remark, but instead, he looked away, a distant look crossing his features. 

“I’m no longer afraid of Padmé’s…death. I still dreamt about it sometimes, but I can tell now that they’re just ordinary dreams, not visions.”

“’There is no death, there is only the Force’, Obi-Wan said in turn. “Remember the Code, Anakin.”

In the gap that follows, he could see the old Anakin emerging – the one marked by war, the one who’s constantly at war with himself, the one who lived his life in fear – just for a moment, in the space between them and their words, in the absence of light that dwells in-between objects, about to object, about to talk back and tell Obi-Wan how wrong he was, but the war changed everyone, for better and for worse, and so does love, and that man, that broken beast of a man, slinks back into the darkness of the war, resigning himself to the murky depths of memory and _what could have been_ , and in his place stood his friend and his brother, staring pensively at him. 

“You’re right, Master.”

Obi-Wan smiles.

“I think you should go back inside,” He gestures at the single window spilling out light, a lighthouse in the sea of dark and sand that surrounds them. “Padmé is waiting for you.”

“Yeah, perhaps I should.” Anakin uncrossed his arms from his chest and took a step back, already retreating, already ebbing, like a high tide, relinquishing the coastline back to the shore. “You sure you’re okay out here, old man?”

“I’ll be fine. I can find my own quarters.” And then, as an afterthought, gruffly: “And I’m not _that_ old, Anakin.”

“You look plenty old enough to me. Old enough to soon overtake Master Yoda.” His former padawan teased, but his playful expression doesn’t last long. A serious thought must have crossed his mind (a preposterous thought, but Anakin does think serious thoughts from time to time, although those moments are few and far between, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, and doesn’t happen often enough), and Obi-Wan bites back the remark he wanted to fling at him, for the sake of patience. He could sense that his friend was about to say something important.

“Just know that you’re always welcome here, okay Obi-Wan? We’d always love to have you for dinner.” There was a pause, and – uncharacteristically for Anakin – he offered him a slight, awkward smile. “You’re part of this family too, you know.”

Whatever he’d been preparing for, Obi-Wan was taken aback. That was definitely _not_ what he was expecting. Of course, in his heart of hearts, he knew that it was true, that Anakin was no longer his only family, that Luke and Leia and Padmé and Shmi was as much his family as the boy he once taught, and a part of him felt like he belonged _here_ , amongst the noisy Skywalkers, despite his mind’s objections, but he never…he never expected Anakin to voice the sentiment out loud.

The Council – or the Temple - had never been his family, and Obi-Wan, as with most Jedi, thought himself to be above such things. But clearly he was wrong.

“Say hi to Ahsoka to me, okay?” Anakin gave him a friendly pat on the back, and disappeared into the house. Obi-Wan briefly sensed _relief_ from him.

Then he was left alone, with the stars and the moon and the desert sky, but he knew that he was never alone.

And Obi-Wan also knew that the Council, in all their wisdom, including him, had been wrong all along in their judgment of love.

Love doesn’t always destroy. Sometimes, it redeems.

And sometimes, it’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for the ending, admittedly, come from Knights of the Old Republic: "But love, itself, will save you...not condemn you." This was supposed to be Skywalker family bonding + Obi-Wan, but somehow the focus shifts to the latter. Anyways, comments & suggestions welcome. I know nothing about engines, apologies for any mistake I may have made (whether regarding that or other things). Thanks for reading!


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